Amazing and Saving
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: Though she is blind, Grace knows things. She sees both Dwight and Negan for what they are and what they are not. And what they are not is monsters, but they have to realize that for themselves through her.
1. Chapter 1

Sitting on the steps of her old home's front porch, Grace adjusted the bandages covering her eyes, or rather what was left of her eyes. The bandage scratched, irritating the freshly healed scar tissue. Grace couldn't understand how Carl could stand his own eye patch, but she supposed it was probably easier for him since he only lost one eye. She wasn't so lucky.

When the Wolves came to Alexandria, Grace had been in her kitchen reading a book she borrowed from her friend Olivia. She had heard the screams and grabbed a butcher knife before she ventured out, wondering why the other Alexandrians were running away. If the wall had been breached by the Dead, they needed to be cleared out quickly. What came through was worse than the Dead, though.

The Wolves were apt in naming themselves, covered in grime from living out in the forest, smelling no better than the Dead. Some of them were just as bloody as the Dead, too, but each of them were branded with a W cut into their forehead. One of them came for Grace, a large machete in his hands that already dripped with fresh red, blood. Grace didn't want to think about whose blood it was.

On the defensive, Grace waved her butcher knife in the air as a warning. Though she had killed many of the Dead before she came to Alexandria for safe haven, she had prided herself on managing to avoid killing the living. Now it was obvious she wouldn't have a choice. "Back the fuck off," she hissed at him, but the man ignored her, leaping up her front steps with a demonic laugh.

He swung his machete at her, narrowly missing, slinging the excess blood off her front porch and flicking it all over her blue sundress. "You're a feisty one," he growled at her. His ice blue eyes were red rimmed and contrasted sharply with the rust colored blood stains of the W cut into his forehead and the brown dirt smeared across his face. The closer he got the more Grace could see that he was much taller and broader, his teeth crooked, broken, and yellow. "I love it when they struggle. If it was easy, I wouldn't have as much fun." His machete slashed through the air again, adding fresh stains to everything.

"You're not gonna fucking touch me," Grace growled right back at him, cautiously backing up out of the machete's deadly range. Her own butcher knife slashed at the air while she reached behind her for the door. Mentally, she was calculating the odds of beating him back and decided she could win so long as none of his friends showed up. "Get the fuck out of here before we kill you and all your dirty friends!"

The Wolf laughed with cruelty, the sound high and grating on her ears. "I'm gonna touch you all over, missy, every inch of you will be covered in me. And then every inch of you will be covered in blood. And then me and my dirty friends are gonna kill all of you." Suddenly, he leapt at her, and Grace ran inside. There he caught her by her long brown hair and tackled her to the floor. He didn't lose his grip on the machete, but Grace accidentally cut her thigh on her butcher knife as it was pinned between her body and the floor.

Flat on the ground of her stomach, Grace squirmed, spitting curses at him. She had not lived this long after the end of the world only to die like this. To shut her up, the Wolf used his grip on her hair to slam her face into the floor, and Grace's glasses broke off her nose and cut it right on the bridge. Stunned, she struggled weakly while the Wolf easily rolled her over on her back. The butcher knife remained trapped underneath her, cutting into her back from the weight of being forced flat by him. Lazily, the Wolf dragged his machete over his sundress, straddling her thighs to keep her from escaping. The machete blade cut through the blue sundress, simultaneously cleaned by the material before slicing through her skin and getting wet from her own blood this time. It sliced her skin so quickly, Grace had barely registered the pain before the Wolf lifted the blade to her face. "You aren't a pretty thing, so this won't matter."

Snapping out of her daze, Grace grabbed at the machete blade as it came down. It cut her palms as she tried to push it away, but the Wolf used a two-handed grip to force it down. Grace barely had time to close her eyes before he pressed it down. She screamed in agony as he cut a W into her forehead, the bottom points right over her eyes. When he pulled away the bloody blade again to examine his handiwork, she was still screaming at him, her hands hovering useless over her face, too afraid to touch it. Of course, it hurt, but one of the most startling sensations was trying to open her eyes and she couldn't see anything – and her eyes were already open. "You can cry all you want, girly, but this is an improvement," the Wolf sneered at her, dropping the machete to the side as he used his hands to rip the rest of her dress open. "Besides, no one will hear you scream but me, and I'll love every second of making you scream." He pressed his mouth to her bloody skin, licking it up, and Grace jerked in surprise at the sensation, disgust curling in the pit of her stomach, warring with her fear and her pain.

Her sense of smell was heightened by her loss of sight, the metallic scent of blood overpowering her nose. It made her nauseous, and the heat of her own blood felt like it was burning her already tortured flesh. No, she wasn't going to die like this.

While he was distracted, shifting down so he could push her dress up over her bleeding and cut up stomach, Grace's hands flopped to the floor, blindly searching for the machete. One of her cut hands recut itself on the blade, but she didn't pull away, tightening her grip instead. Taking it in her grasp she lifted it and sliced at the air horizontally, blindly, using all of her remaining strength that was fueled by her pain – and her overwhelming anger.

She heard a gurgling sound followed by the sensation of rain, but she knew it wasn't rain. It was too hot and it was spraying out rather than coming down and she was inside. It was too heavy, too, something slimy falling on her, coating her in fresh blood. The Wolf collapsed the side, lifting the pressure from her legs so she could pull herself up and curl in on herself. "You bitch!" He managed to choke out before he fell with a thud, and went still.

Grace remained where she was, breathing heavily, clutching the machete to her chest like a lifeline with one hand while she used the other to wipe away the blood. Her head snapped from side to side, listening for more Wolves or the Dead. She heard footsteps approaching and whipped the machete out. "You fucking touch me and I'll kill you, too!"

"Grace," came Carol's voice, one of the new Alexandrians that Aaron found – one of the few of Rick's group to stay after the others left to lead a herd of the Dead away.

Dropping the machete, Grace started hyperventilating, breaking out in shakes, no longer forced to be on guard. "Check and see if he's d-dead," she stuttered.

Listening, Grace heard Carol doubtlessly shove a knife through the Wolf's head. "He is, now you're bleeding a lot, we need to get you to the doctor."

"Wait, wait, what did I do to him," Grace asked, this burning desire to know what she did to him since she overwhelmingly knew what he did to her. "Carol, Carol, did I kill him?"

"You gutted him," Carol's usually soft and bubbly voice was no longer light and joyful. It was hard, bitter with the truth, callous about the situation. Carol's arms carefully wrapped around Grace's shoulders and she flinched at the unexpected touch.

Reaffirmed by the truth, Grace nodded and kept nodding. She wanted to cry, but she wasn't sure if it was tears or blood that was streaming so hotly down her face. "I can't see," she whispered, horrified, "I can't see." Before Carol could say anything else, Grace passed out from blood loss and shock.

It took a while for Grace to recover, but luckily, she managed to get a blood donation from Daryl of all people when he came back and the invasion of the Dead was finally finished. She had meanwhile lied in a coma under Denise – the new doctor's care. Denise, despite her inexperience was surprised that Grace pulled through, especially since it was a traumatic experience. Of course, Grace was traumatized by it, but after everything she had went through since the world went to shit, she was no worse off – except for her eyes.

She felt like such a burden now, useless to be on watch because she was blind. Her days were listless as she couldn't even read for pleasure anymore. Eventually, she was moved out of her house to live with Olivia, unable to even cook for herself without catching her food on fire. Luckily, she had avoided burning down the house, but she was all out of sorts. What was there for her to do now?

In the coming weeks of her recovery, Grace had grown close to Carl. It made sense. Grace was a young woman entering college when the world went to shit, so she was practically a kid going through the apocalypse like Carl. Now, like Carl, they had both loss their vision, him only partially while she lost hers full stop. He was learning how to adapt to it, how to shoot properly, and Grace had to learn how to walk around and navigate Alexandria without tripping over everything.

Curiously enough, Grace also forged a friendship with Daryl, too. He had donated blood to her, one of the few remaining survivors with the same blood type. Grace remembered waking up and mumbling her blood type to Denise before passing out again. When she had pulled through, Denise told her about what Daryl did. Grace had stumbled through the streets of Alexandria looking for him for hours before she found him and thanked him.

After that, they ran into each other often – sometimes quite literally. Now forced to navigate the world but sound and touch, Grace became very familiar the pattern of angel wings on Daryl's jacket. He became a friend and nothing more, just like Carl, Denise, and Olivia.

For a while, Grace started to believe that Alexandria could rebuild and she could recover, too. One of her new jobs was to watch Judith, Alexandria's only child below the age of ten, whenever Rick's group would go out and scavenge. It was an easy job, despite her being blind because often Judith wanted to be held. Sometimes Olivia would pop over and help, too, and there were often visitors who wanted to play with the baby. Grace didn't mind being a glorified babysitter, proud that she could watch Judith and put Rick's mind at easy while he went and found them food. Grace thought he was a good leader and he was a great man, often bearing witness in her own way to Rick's love for his children and for the members of his group. Rick became a friend to her, too, in a way, thanks to Daryl. It was through Daryl's recommendation that she got this job, anyway.

Then under Rick's leadership, a new threat arrived. Instead of herds of the Dead or packs of Wolves, there were new communities – one of the Saviors. Blind as she was, Grace couldn't help them, though before she would've doubtlessly volunteered. Now that she has killed once and lived with it – and it was too, too easy to live with the Wolf's blood on her hands – Grace was willing to do it again to protect her friends and family. She didn't want anyone to go through an experience similar to her own.

One day Maggie, one of Rick's group who revealed she was pregnant, started having problems, so Rick took a small group of his people and left for the Hilltop's doctor. A few days before that Daryl and a few others had left, too, gone hunting. Denise had died, and all of Grace's friends had left except for Olivia.

When her friends came back, they were changed. Two were dead and Daryl was missing, effectively a prisoner of war. The Saviors took him. Rick gathered everyone from Alexandria in the Church and told them what happened, choking on the details. Without her eyes, Grace's mind conjured up some fantastic imagery of what exactly happened, and she cried. A small part her – part of her that refused to tell anyone what she thought – thought to herself that at least their suffering was somewhat quick. Reflecting back on what she went through, Grace knew it would've gone on for hours had she not sliced the Wolf open. Still, it made Grace's blood boil to know that Daryl was one of the Savior's captives. She could only hope that he didn't have to go through anything similar than what she went through.

"Grace."

Tobin's voice made her nearly jump out of her skin, she had been so lost in thought. Uselessly, Grace tilted her head up towards the direction she heard Tobin, fingers still fussing with the edges of her bandage that covered her scar and prevented infection in her eyes. "Sorry, Tobin, I was just daydreaming and enjoying the sun. It feels like a beautiful day," Grace apologized and explained to him. "Is it a beautiful day? I bet it is."

"Grace," Tobin's voice was laced with fear, "You better go back to Olivia's home now. The Saviors are here to collect. They're going through every house. You need to get out of here."

"The Saviors?" Grace repeated, using the railing on the steps to pull herself to her feet. She wasn't sure what they would do to her as a seemingly defenseless blind girl, but she wasn't exactly sure what she could do otherwise to stay out of their way. Hiding didn't seem like the best of options since they were searching the houses. "How many are there, Tobin? Do they have a lot of guns?"

"Too many and too many," Tobin answered her, his voice fading due to distance. She tilted her head, listening to his retreating footsteps, "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Tobin!" Grace shouted after him, frustrated at his cowardice. Ever since Carol left him, he was different. Under her breath, Grace muttered about how he could've at least escorted her to Olivia's house.

Distantly, she heard Tobin call back to her, "They brought Daryl with them!"

At that, Grace caught her breath. She knew the rumors that people assumed she and Daryl were interested in one another when that couldn't be further from the truth. So, despite her slight irritation with Tobin, she was grateful that he told her that. There was no way she was going back to Olivia's. Now she had to find Daryl.

Stumbling through the street blindly, Grace reached out her arms and waved them in front of her in a sweeping gesture. Her normally mincing and hesitating steps were braver now in her rush to find Daryl. She journeyed to the gate, following the sounds of commotion. She wasn't afraid of what could happen, because all she could think about is checking to see if Daryl was alright.

As she neared the gate, she heard Rosita's familiar voice, exchanging icy words with another man. Grace slowed, concentrating on what Rosita was saying in a tight, quiet voice, "It ain't here."

"Well, if it ain't here, then you know where it is, right? We both know you know where it is," said the man's voice, equally as tense and low as Rosita's. The man was unfamiliar, probably one of the Saviors if Grace had to guess. "Now you're good to go, so go," he spoke again to Rosita. Grace heard the slam of a car door, the engine idling, and his voice cut over it, "Don't take too long." There was a splashing sound, like running water, and briefly Grace wondered if he pissed on the car. The engine revved, signaling that Rosita had left, and there was rattling sound, the clang of metal signaling that the gate had closed after them. They had gone.

Not discouraged in the slightest, Grace walked forward, towards where she heard them speaking. Maybe they had left Daryl at the entrance as a way to tease him with the view of Alexandria. At least, that was what she figured they would do to him.

Suddenly she collided into something, or rather someone. Immediately, her arms wrapped around the person, careful not to lose her balance or knock them over. She didn't need to piss off a Savior like that. As her hands made contact with the person's back, her arms easily able to wrap around the slim individual, she felt the textured pattern of angel wings. Was this Daryl? Grace tightened her grip around the man, hugging him close to her, her chin digging into his shoulder.

Grunting in surprise, Dwight had run into this shorter, plumper woman, too distracted by watching Rosita drive away, tucking her hat in his jacket. Before he could bark at this woman, she hugged him, and Dwight was so surprised by the familiar contact. Part of him missed it, and he remembered Sherry. This woman was a lot more curvier and plumper than Sherry, though, every lump and bump pressed against him. He went limp, pliant, arms hanging low and crossbow in hand loose in his grip. She was nearly squeezing the air out of his lungs, but he didn't feel threatened at all.

The man gave a low grunt, but didn't push her away. Grace's suspicions that this was Daryl was affirmed when she felt something curved like a crossbow brush against her leg. "You're so thin," Grace began, lifting her head just enough that she was able to talk into Daryl's ear. Greasy, long, and stringy hair brushed against her lips, and Grace was sure that this had to be Daryl. "They haven't been feeding you, have they?"

Part of Dwight wanted to laugh because he hadn't been eating any better before he joined the Saviors. Over the woman's shoulder, he saw Laura and Gary watching him. Laura looked a little jealous – she had been trying to hook up him since he had joined the Saviors' ranks and started impressing Negan – and she also looked partially suspicious about the woman, stepping forward to drag her away. Gary just stood there, muffling his snickers as he laughed at Dwight's predicament. Dwight waved his free hand at Laura, signaling that he was fine and he could handle this. Gary grabbed Laura and jerked her away, both of them heading in to go raid the houses.

Pulling away slightly, Grace gripped the tops of his arms firmly in her hands as she held him a short distance away. She wasn't surprised that he had neither hugged her nor spoken yet as the Daryl she knew wasn't a touchy-feely kind of person or very talkative for that matter. "I'm so glad you're here, now," she informed him sincerely.

Once Dwight got his first good look at the mystery woman, he wasn't sure what he should say. She had a white, fraying bandage over her eyes, but the bandage didn't cover everything. She had scars, jagged and rough, peeking out from under the bandage, three that reached into her hair line. If it weren't for the scars, she'd be pretty to Dwight, her skin a pretty brown and fairly clear of any other blemishes otherwise. Her brown hair was cut short to her neck, and her nose was pert above her luscious and generously full lips. The woman was actually smiling at him, a tremulous smile, but one all the same. The only person who really smiles at Dwight anymore is Laura when she was trying to fuck and Negan all the time. It was a refreshing smile for Dwight.

The blind woman dragged her hands up to his face, needing the touch to reaffirm that he was real to her. There Grace grasped either side of his face, the slight stubble of facial hair stinging the sensitive scar tissue on her palms from where she had cut her hands, but she didn't care. Her hands traveled up further, thumbs on the corner of his mouth and fingertips on his cheekbones, but one side of his face felt wrong. She wasn't familiar with touching Daryl's face – she had never done it before – but she knew he had slight facial hair. Grace also knew that he didn't have any scars on his face, but from her own scars she knew the rigid, bumpy texture of them when she touched one. "What did they do to you?"

Dwight watched her expression fall into one of horror. He was use to the pitying look, but her look wasn't quite a look of pity. It was rather like one of compassion or the deepest sympathy. He had to wonder who she thought he was.

"Oh, it doesn't matter what they did to you. Now that you're home they can't hurt you anymore. I won't let them," she fiercely added. Gently, she traced her fingertips over the scar tissue, mapping it out over his eyelid, but she could tell that he still had both eyes undamaged unlike her. "We almost match now," she lightly joked, motioning with her free hand towards her face. Her bandage had slipped down, and she used that free hand to push it back into place. She caressed the scarred cheek before she wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him down into another hug.

With fascination, he watched as the bandaged had slipped down and revealed a hollow eyelid, deeply mangled, the scar tissue thick knots. Self-conscious of his own burn scars, Dwight found kinship with her. Her familiar touches were soothing, as well, and he was still at a deep lost for what to say to her. He didn't want to speak, didn't want her to pull away in disgust once she knew he was a Savior. Dwight was just so…lonely, and tired of keeping of a façade with everyone. This time when she hugged him, Dwight loosely wrapped his arms around her back and patted between her shoulder blades, deeply unsure of himself.

With a deep sigh, Grace said sternly, "You listen to me, no matter what you may think, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You thought you were doing the right thing, and that's all that matters. It's not your fault that they're dead, it just happens. It's not you, it's Negan."

Even though Dwight knew those words were for someone else, he took them to heart gladly. He couldn't help but think about how he got himself in this situation, after what happen with Sherry and her sister Tina. Tina was dead because he couldn't keep her safe, and both Sherry and Tina trusted him to that and he failed. Sherry was married to Negan now, and Dwight knew he lost her as a wife. The woman's words comforted him greatly, probably more than she knew.

This felt so right, and Grace felt something warm deep within. Even though Alexandria was crawling with Saviors, Grace still felt to safe in this embrace. "I missed you so much, Daryl."

Immediately, all good feelings were gone. It felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice down his back, and Dwight instantly broke off the hug, quickly disentangling himself. Off all the people she thought he was, it had to be Daryl. Daryl, who Dwight had been torturing with _Easy Street_ for the past three days, who Dwight fed dog food sandwiches, who Dwight made cry, who Dwight was desperately trying to emulate in order to gain Negan's approval. Bile rose in the back of his throat, not because he was mistaken for Daryl, but because he felt guilty for enjoying the human contact she gave him no matter how brief it was. He was ashamed of himself.

"Daryl?" Grace said softly, so tender as if she were placating a child, "Is something wrong? Are they not going to allow you to stay here again?" Fear clutched her heart at the thought, but she tried to not let it show on her face. She needed to be strong for Daryl.

Warring with himself, Dwight considered just walking away, letting her believe that he was Daryl. He also considered smashing her hopes and dreams and re-entering the Savior persona he had crafted for himself, but he just couldn't manage to do that to a blind woman who was so kind and trusting, her touch a sweet balm. Instead, he found himself telling her in a small voice, "Sorry, but, I'm not Daryl."

The first emotion Grace felt was embarrassment. Being blind, she often did stupid things without realizing it. She took a step back, blushing, stuttering out an apology, "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I just touched the jacket and the crossbow and assumed…" She cleared her throat rather than finishing the sentence. The next thing she felt was confusion, wondering who exactly this was then and why they would let her manhandle them like that. Grace quickly brushed that aside, though, as she found that often people would let her get away with anything just for being blind now – something she secretly hated. But the most pressing emotion she felt was panic. Where was Daryl then? Was Daryl worse off than this man? "I'm Grace, by the way. Who are you then, if not Daryl? Where is he?"

Shuffling his feet, Dwight thought fast. "Grace," he reiterated for himself, stalling. "I'm Dwight. I'm a Savior."

Tilting her head all the way to one side, Grace turned her face in the general direction of Dwight's voice. He was a Savior, but definitely not what she had expected, or even what she had heard for that matter. When she had made her way here, she could hear the rowdiness of those Saviors as they pillaged and took what they wanted, breaking shit while they did it. "Hey, Dwight," she greeted him, not sure what to expect from such a confusing man.

Shifting nervously, switching his weight from one foot to the other, Dwight slung the crossbow back across his back. For some reason, he felt compelled to make things up to her, as a way of apologizing for taking advantage of the identity mix up. "I can show… or take you to Daryl. He may be too busy to talk to you, but maybe not. You can't speak to him, though. He, he won't be staying her."

Jumping at the opportunity regardless of whether anything could come from it, Grace demanded, "Please, take me to him." She held out her hand in Dwight's general direction. Grace needed this.

Hesitating slightly, Dwight eventually accepted her hand and marched her at a fast pace deeper into town to find Daryl. Dwight figured that he would be with Negan, so all he had to do was listen for his voice, which shouldn't exactly be hard since the man loved to talk and hear himself so damn much. He didn't say anything to her, and tried to take the paths that would have the least number of Saviors around. After building up the tough-guy persona for so long, he didn't need it all to come crashing down around him over one girl.

Determined, Grace kept up with him, unbothered about holding hands. Since she became blind this was a regular thing for her. "How is Daryl? What has happened to him?" Since she couldn't exactly see him for herself and she may not be able to touch or talk to him, she needed to know somehow if he was okay.

"He's strong," Dwight reassured her, "We're… I'm trying to break him, but I can't. It's hard, and it's taking a long time, but he's holding on." Thinking back about what she had said to him, Dwight tacked on, "He eats regularly, and he works hard. He's in mostly the same shape since we got him." He avoided telling her about the beating or what kind of work Daryl does or what he eats, figuring Grace didn't need to hear or know that kind of stuff.

Unsurprised by Dwight's answer, Grace nodded. This is what she figured from Daryl, but a tremendous weight was lifted off her shoulder hearing it from Dwight. She ignored how he said that he'd been the one attempting to break Daryl. Though Grace barely knew Dwight, she could tell that he wasn't a cruel person. Grace intimately knew cruelty, and it wasn't Dwight. Besides, she didn't think anything could break Daryl. He was strong, strong like how she wanted to be and needed to be in this world. Daryl was a survivor. Dwight? She wasn't so sure about as far as being a survivor.

"What happened to you, Dwight?" Grace asked him about the burn scar. "You don't have to tell me, but I'll tell you about mine if you want. Make things fair."

"The world isn't fair anymore," Dwight muttered darkly. Then he sighed, "They burned my face for stealing supplies and trying to run away."

Mulling it over, Grace could see why that was punishable, though doubtlessly extreme. It seems Dwight was the survivor type after all. "These people invaded Alexandria, the Wolves," she started to explain to him, "One of the men found me in my home, tried to rape me. He cut a W in my face – a cult thing. Took out both of my eyes. Cut me up pretty damn bad." She fell silence and the air was thick with tension as Dwight remained silent, too. "It's like you said Dwight, the world isn't fair anymore."

Just as she said that, they both heard a gunshot, and fear pierced Grace's heart. She tugged urgently at her hand, and both she and Dwight broke out in a trot in the direction of the single gunshot. Dwight rounded a corner, and Grace felt the subtle change of grass to pavement under feet. He slowed, and so did she, breathing heavily both out of adrenaline and fear. Listening intently over her thunderous heartbeat, Grace heard Rick's tense southern drawl and another man's louder booming voice. She had just opened her mouth to ask Dwight was what happening when she heard her friend and roommate Olivia stutter, "No, I mean, yes. The inventory is correct."

"Olivia," Grace gasped to herself. Not Olivia, not another one of her friends. "Did they shoot her?"

"No, he shot the window," Dwight whispered back to her carefully, keeping his distance. Daryl was standing nearby, having finished loading up the truck with the guns. He had his head duck down and it was hard for Dwight to catch his eye. Negan didn't need to see this.

"What's happening? I can't hear what they're saying. Where's Daryl?" Grace's voice was frustrated, a high-pitched whisper. She yanked at their clasped hands again, but didn't loosen her grip, clinging to him tight. Her other hand came up and grasped his elbow, practically hanging off of him.

Part of Dwight wanted to shake her off, but he also didn't want to hurt her feelings. He could understand why she was frustrated. "Olivia lost two guns, and since we're taking your guns, Negan's going to kill her unless your guy Rick can find them."

"Olivia can't have lost the guns," Grace belligerently argued in her disbelief. "They must have been stolen."

"It doesn't matter, Negan will punish her." Dwight watched as Rick hurried away, calling a town meeting to find the Glock 9 and .22 Bobcat.

"That's fucking stupid!" Grace commented a little too loudly, and Dwight winced.

It was too late. Evidently, Negan heard her and beckoned Dwight and Grace over with an imperious wave of his gloved hand. Olivia and Daryl remained with him, but the other Saviors – like Arat – continued about their business. Left with no choice, Dwight pulled Grace over to Negan, and she stumbled after him, though not protesting. She threw out her free hand and waved it in front of her, looking for Daryl in her own way. "Sir," Dwight began, but Negan quickly cut him off.

"Who the fuck is this?" Negan jerked his chin at Grace, his gaze heavy on her hand's death grip on Dwight's hand.

"I'm Grace." She turned her face in the general direction of the new man, not sure what to think of him. "Please, please don't kill Olivia. I'm sure it's not her fault. Someone probably stole them."

Side-eyeing Olivia, Negan saw the woman duck her head at Grace's words but otherwise say nothing. Negan looked back at Dwight and raised high brows, giving him an incredulous look like 'Can you believe this shit?' but Dwight's face was tight and blank, unresponsive. He was no fun to play with. Lastly, Negan took a good look at Grace. She was dark-skinned, short, chubby, and pretty. Her eyes were hidden by a bandage – blind then, too. No wonder she spoke so freely. This community was just full of oddities and surprises. "Well Grace, ex-fucking-cuse me if you think it's stupid, but nothing lights a fire under someone's ass like a death threat and I need those fucking guns. Do you know where the hell they are?" His question was a little bit redundant.

"No, I'm sorry," Grace answered him. She lifted her chin as she suddenly asked him, "Who are you?"

With a small chuckle, Negan answer her, amused by the woman. "I'm Negan. I know you've had to have heard of me." He watched realization flood her features, but he didn't see any noticeable signs of fear or anger or hatred. Maybe she lacked a way to express those emotions without her eyes. Licking his lips, he moved on when he didn't get the kind of reaction he wanted. "What the fuck are you doing here with Dwight?"

"I'm looking for Daryl. You took him and then you brought him back. I want to see him," Grace explained confidently.

Negan outright laughed at her now, "Very poor choice of words, Grace. You'd be looking right at him now if you, you know, could." He took Olivia's hand in his, forcing her to follow him as he went over and grabbed Daryl by the collar of his shirt. He pushed the man in Grace's general direction before shooting a look at Dwight. "Now technically, my orders were that no one could speak or look at Daryl, but considering you're, um, situation, I'll make somewhat of an exception. The catch is that he can't talk back. Don't touch him either. Just say what you fucking need to say since it's so damn important, Grace."

Unbothered by the audience, Grace took the opportunity, "Daryl, it's okay, it'll be okay. You're a survivor and what happened isn't on you – it isn't on you!" She reached out, Daryl out of her grasp, but she reached out all the same.

"Well, that was fucking sweet." Negan deadpanned. "Now Daryl has to get back to work now, and me and Olivia need to go get acquainted. How about you and Dwighty-boy go and get a little acquainted, too? Dwight!" He jerked his head in dismal, giving Dwight a look that obvious signaled this to be discussed later. Casting one last look on Grace and marking her in his mind as interesting as she was too kind in this world, Negan ushered Olivia away to a nearby bench to sit and talk.

Doing as Negan asked, Dwight pulled Grace away quickly, wondering if he was going to be punished for this later. The first Alexandrian he found he passed Grace off on them. "Take her to her home." Dwight motioned to a nearby Savior, too, and commanded him, "Make sure her home has a mattress." Then he started to leave.

Before he could go, though, Grace squeezed his hand in her grip. Urgently, she told him, "Look Dwight, what I said to you earlier before I knew who you were? Doesn't change anything." She was telling him this because she felt connected to him, both because of the scars and because he just seemed so lost and broken. He was strong when he obviously didn't want to be, and to her it was like Daryl was when she first started to become friends with him. Dwight was just an abused puppy at this point, and if she could provide momentary solace and comfort, she wasn't going to begrudge him that. "If whatever I said meant something to you, good, I'm glad it did. It should."

Instead of reply, Dwight slipped his hand out of her grasp, the action gentle. What she was saying now almost disturbed him. He hurried away, trying not to think about it. Still, he couldn't stop himself from affirming that with her blessing, he didn't feel like such a monster anymore.

Later that night, Grace couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. Over and over again in her mind she replayed the incident with Dwight and her brief encounter with Negan. Since he had lost her eyes, she had been less hasty to make assumptions, she had noticed.

Despite what she had heard about both men for being part of the Saviors, she didn't feel burning hatred. Before she could dredge up that emotion now problem, but now that she had met them both it was more difficult.

Olivia had told her about Negan that night when they ate dinner together. She described him as handsome, too handsome, with a dazzling smile and dimples and a bad boy look complete with a black leather jacket. Of course, Olivia mentioned how despite being scary at times, he could be disarming with his charm as she'd been forced to hang out with him while Rick finally collected the guns from Spencer's home. She said that Negan briefly flirted with her, completely calm, too calm, and that is what threw her off the most as she couldn't tell if he was being facetious with her or not. In her mind's eye, Grace pictured him, and she couldn't see a monster at all.

Ever since she had killed that Wolf – the real monster – it was hard for her to think anyone else to be a monster. She had killed someone, but she was doing that to survive or he would've done much worse to her before killing her out of pleasure. Grace knew true monstrosity intimately, and she didn't think either Dwight or Negan were monsters.

In the Sanctuary, Dwight and Negan had a discussion somewhat similar to the one Olivia and Grace had over their dinner of canned green beans, only Dwight and Negan were both drinking beer. "What the shit were you doing with the blind girl, Dwight?" Negan cut right to the chase, "Of all the women in Alexandria, you pick the most vulnerable one. It's because she can't see your nasty ass scar, huh? Or maybe because she's got a nasty ass scar, too, and you feel right at home. Still, she is a fine piece of ass."

Dwight switched his beer to the other hand, picking at the label that was peeling off. He had to be careful about what he said. "I wasn't trying to do that." Slowly, he explained, "She's different than that, she's…" He hesitated to say special, not knowing where that word came from.

"Shit, Dwighty-boy," Negan sounded shocked, "I'm not saying you can't fuck her, I'm just asking why her? She doesn't exactly look anything like Sherry, you know. That's almost kind of fucking weird."

"She thought I was Daryl," Dwight admitted to Negan, refusing to talk about Sherry with him. "She just came up and started talking to me like I was him. I figured what's the harm in letting a blind girl talk to Daryl. It would only break him faster."

"Oh, she's Daryl's girl? I'm surprised he can get good pussy like that," Negan commented. He tilted his head at Dwight, though, and took a hardy swig of his beer before he asked, "Why were you holding her hand, Dwight?"

Avoiding Negan's knowing gaze, Dwight wrote it off, "She's blind. She was clinging to me." If Dwight were a lesser man, he would have been blushing.

"You were her walking stick, huh? I bet she wanted to use your walking stick. Oh, hell, on you it's probably not a walking stick. Mine sure as hell is," Negan laughed at his own joke before continuing, "Shit you can laugh, Dwight. It won't kill you. And neither would a good fuck. I'm sure she would've let you fuck her if you'd ask politely."

Dwight didn't say anything, too awkward to come up with something to say. He hadn't looked at her that way, but not that Negan had mentioned it, the gears in Dwight's mind started turning.

Since Dwight didn't respond, Negan kept talking, "Shit, I should ask her for a fuck. Or Olivia. Both are hot as shit. Next time we go to Alexandria, if you don't do it Dwight, then I fucking will. Abso-fucking-lutely no reason good pussy like that should go to waste or be wasted on fucking Daryl of all people." Negan was actually being serious. The next opportunity he would get, he wanted to proposition to Grace. She seemed like she would be a lot of fun. Suddenly an idea hit him, and Negan snapped the fingers of his free hand. "You want to break Daryl? You fuck his woman, Dwight. You of all people should know this." Negan smiled and gulped down the rest of his beer.

Knowing he was referring to himself and Sherry, Dwight again said nothing, taking another small sip of his beer. He stared at the floor, cowed, broken.

"Well, goodnight, Dwighty-boy. I'm gonna Ping-Pong my dick all over Sherry's titties now. You and your right hand have fun while you're think about ol' Graceful's fantastic fucking ass."

After Negan left, Dwight was left alone with his thoughts. Yes, Grace was something alright, she was different, she was special. Far too kind and forgiving and strong. Everything Dwight was not. Dwight didn't know what to do with this information, except know that at least there was someone out there that didn't despise him for what he did and what he is doing. Rather than going to Daryl's cell to talk to him about Grace, Dwight went to bed, granting Daryl that one kindness just for Grace.


	2. Chapter 2

One of the most jarring things about being blind was being forced to recognize the difference between being asleep and being awake. Before the end of the world, Grace had never been much of a dreamer – always more of a deep sleeper. That quickly had to change, though, so Grace trained herself to be able to jerk awake at any given notice. She became jumpy quickly hearing noises at night.

Being in Alexandria, of course, there were more normalized sounds that signaled the morning. One of her neighbors was still obsessed with yardwork to the point that he mowed everyone's lawn and trimmed the hedges. The grass clippings were used for a compost heap. Since Grace lost her eyes, though, she had been dreaming that she was awake and it wasn't until at some point in the dream that she remembered she was supposed to be blind.

This morning, Grace was dozing uneasily on the edge of wakefulness. She dreamed she was sitting on the wall, on guard duty with Daryl, and she had just turned to him to tell him a joke, and there were scars crisscrossed over Daryl's face with empty sockets, and terrible burns. It was so horrifying and starling she immediately jerked awake into complete blackness.

Chest heaving and uncomfortably cool from her sweat, Grace laid there for what felt like forever, trying to calm herself and visualize Daryl to be healthy. Thankfully, the sharpness of the dream was fading away as dreams often do. She distantly heard the flush of a toilet, the running faucet of the sink. That signaled that Olivia was awake. With a sigh, Grace carefully scrubbed her face and got up. Dressing was easier now since she had been doing it by herself for a while. Making the bed without stubbing her toes was more challenging, but manageable.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. "Grace?" Olivia asked on the other side. "Are you up? I need to replace your bandages."

Following the sound of Olivia's voice, Grace opened the door. "Morning, Olivia."

"Morning," Olivia greeted her, her voice soft and kind, but not out of pity. That was just Olivia for you, timid mostly. "Do you need to use the bathroom first?"

"No, but I want to take a shower." Grace resisted the urge to scratch her face.

"I'll just make breakfast, then," Olivia agreed and moved away downstairs. She didn't stick around to guide Grace anywhere because she knew by now that Grace would throw a fit. Besides, Grace could safely navigate through the house and even down the stairs. These houses were built with handrails on the staircases, luckily enough.

After her shower, Grace stumbled down the stairs, following her nose to the kitchen where Olivia made porridge. Porridge was disgusting if you can't drown it in honey and brown sugar and butter or add any fruit, but Alexandria was running dangerously low. Rick and his crew needed to not only scavenge for Negan, but for Alexandria, too. Safely making it to the kitchen, Grace sat down at the table and Olivia pushed a bowl in front of her. It took practice, but Grace managed to not drip it anywhere or miss her mouth. "How much of our food did Negan take?"

She knew Olivia was sitting across from her, judging by the clink of her own spoon on the bowl. "Well, actually," Olivia hesitated between bites of her porridge. Grace braced herself for the worst. There have been food rationings before, but never to the point of it being dangerous. This was the worse Alexandria has ever been, so Grace expected Rick implanted strict, albeit needed, limitation. "Negan didn't take any of our food," Olivia surprised Grace.

"Really?" Grace squeaked. Negan had taken every gun and bullet in the armory and then some – even taken the majority of the mattresses (with Olivia's house being spared by Dwight). He had spared the food, though? Food had become one of the most important supplies next to guns and medicine, and at this point Negan had taken some of the medicine, too. What could he possibly be playing at?

"He just didn't," Olivia said, and if Grace had eyes she'd bet that Olivia was shrugging.

How could Grace respond to that? So instead of responding, Grace shoveled the last of her porridge in her mouth, ignoring the taste. Dropping the spoon back in the bowl, she pushed her chair back and grabbed the bowl, heading towards the sink. "So, what do we have to do today?"

"Michonne came by while you were in the shower, said that Judith needed to be babysat today."

"They're leaving to scavenge, huh?" Grace stuck her hand under the water when she started the sink and burned her hand for the trouble. Rather than complaining, she adjusted the temperature and started washing the dishes. There wasn't much to wash.

"I don't know if Rick left with her, just that Michonne said she had something to do. Carl will be there, but Michonne said he could use the company. It's not fair for him to be on babysitting duty all the time, he's just a kid."

"Olivia," Grace's voice was stern. Carl was young, and deserved his freedom rather than responsibilities, but everyone could tell just by looking at him that Carl has done terrible things. No one at Alexandria could understand that or comprehend any of his experiences. Rather than dwelling on it, Grace – in a funk from appearing so stupid and weak yesterday because of her blindness – muttered under her breath, "It's not fair for him to babysit his sister, but that's all I'm good for at this point."

Making exaggeratedly loud steps, Olivia approached the sink and added her dirty dishes to the soapy water. "I can help you out with babysitting duty if you want. You can be on guard duty for the inventory now."

"Now that there's no guns, you mean?" Grace didn't mean to sound mean, but she knew that eventually she'd have to give up babysitting Judith the older and more active she got. It was already hell enough as it is just to change a damn diaper.

"Now that there's nothing to steal, anymore, I was going to say." Olivia didn't seem to mind Grace's tone, used to the treatment by now.

"I'm sorry," Grace apologized, knowing that Olivia was constantly spoken down to and it wasn't fair of Grace to do it. "Yeah, yeah that be nice to switch jobs."

Unbothered, Olivia just ignored the apology and asked, "You want the morning shift?"

"Sure, I just don't let anyone have anything."

"Yeah, nobody should come until tonight when they're hungry for dinner." Olivia paused, still lingering beside Grace, then she suddenly said, "If Spencer shows up, just tell him to leave. Don't tell him where I am."

Grimacing, Grace spat, "You think he thinks you told Rick where the guns were?" Spencer and Olivia had a complicated relationship. Spencer led Olivia on to think that they were dating, but really, he only used Olivia for sex and access to the armory and food. He was constantly taking things without asking – including the Glock 9 and .22 Bobcat. Olivia had no idea it was Spencer, but when she found out from Rick, she decided to avoid Spencer now. Grace was going to support that decision since she never like Spencer anyway, douchebag that he was.

"I don't know, but I don't want to see him."

Licking her lips, Grace asked, "You know, I think he has some kind of relationship with Rosita. They went out on a run yesterday, just the two of them." Unable to read Olivia's facial expressions, Grace anxiously awaited a response. She only told Olivia because she needed to know, and maybe this would solidify her decision to avoid Spencer for good.

"I almost wish Rick told Negan who stole the guns," Olivia whispered, so quiet that Grace barely heard her.

There was no heat, no underlying acidity, but Grace could understand why Olivia said that. Olivia almost died because of Spencer. "It's okay now, Olivia." She reached out and her hand touched Olivia's elbow, good enough to pat comfortingly. "I'll see you this afternoon?"

"Yeah," Olivia said after a moment, "Let me just change your bandage and give the keys. Then you can go, and I'll finish these dishes."

When Grace got to the armory, all was quiet. She made sure to lock the door behind her, just in case anyone thought they could sneak in here just because she was blind. Dragging her hands over every surface, Grace could 'see' in her own way that it was true – all the weapons and ammunition were taken. The melee weapons on hand were missing, too, but Grace wasn't sure if that's because Negan took them, too, or they were redistributed since they lacked guns now.

Moving to the garage, she carefully ran her hands over the shelves, careful not to knock any of the jars or cans over. It wasn't hard to do considering how bare the shelves were. Grace was just wondering what she and Olivia were going to do for dinner tonight when there was a large rattling as the garage door was forcibly opened from the outside. Directing herself towards the noise, she said flatly, "I can't give you any food until tonight. You'll have to come back with everyone else."

"See, if Rick really didn't want people to steal food, then he wouldn't leave a blind girl in charge." Of course, it was Spencer, and it took a tremendous amount of effort on Grace's part to not let her face show her displeasure. "If Rick wasn't in charge, though, we wouldn't be starving anyway."

"Don't say that about Rick," Grace sharply cut in, quick to stop Spencer before he could go off on another rant about Rick. Ever since Abraham and Glenn had died, Spencer had been a whiner to anyone who would listen – and not many would. Just because Grace was blind doesn't mean she was deaf, too; she would not let Spencer badmouth Rick to her.

"Come on, you may be blind, but surely you can see Rick doesn't deserve to be leader." Spencer and Grace's relationship wasn't the best one. They've butted heads for as long as they've known each other since they first met. They just couldn't get along, and the mutual disdain they held for each other ran deep.

Grace thought Spencer was a spoiled, coasting by on his mother's name and his handsome looks – though, Grace didn't think he was cute anyway. In fact, she made that clear to him on more than one occasion. She also thought he was extremely reckless, which is why she stopped going on his supply runs. In addition, she hated how he treated Olivia, and especially how he treated the newcomers like Rick's group.

In comparison, Spencer thought Grace was too strong-willed, and since she refused to go on runs with him he disliked her even more. He dubbed her to be useless, and since her accident, he's only reaffirmed that he thought she was a stone around Alexandria's neck. They were just never going to get along with each other.

If Grace had her eyes, she would roll them since this was the second time in five minutes he's made a blind joke. "You think you deserve to be leader?"

"Yes," and Spencer sounded completely serious. "I'm glad you can see it."

"I can't see you leading Alexandria any more than I can see you now," Grace informed him flatly, the blind jokes grating on her nerves steadily. "Don't get any ideas about stealing any food, though, it's not like you need it."

"What, Rick told you about my secret stash including stealing my guns? Those were my guns, by the way, not the community's." Spencer's voice was dark, but Grace wasn't scared. Spencer would never dare hurt her – and if he did, Grace felt like it didn't matter that she was blind. She could take him.

"Rick didn't have to tell me about your stash." Grace didn't doubt that he had one either. If he had guns, Spencer would have a ton of other goodies as well. "Olivia keeps a very careful inventory list. She's been covering for your ungrateful ass, but now she's done doing that."

Grace stumbled when Spencer pushed passed her, mumbling to her to watch where she's going. She spun to face his direction, listening intently to his stomping as a way to check to see if he would do anything. "Where is Olivia by the way? I wanted to see her."

"Well, I haven't seen her," and Grace wasn't lying. "But I'm sure she wouldn't want to see you anyway, even if you were going to apologize for almost getting her killed yesterday." Grace spat unforgivingly, "Go find Rosita. She's your new girlfriend now. Olivia is through with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." There was a rusting sound, like pages turning, and Grace knew Spencer found Olivia's book of inventory. She'd have to tell Olivia later to look it over, just in case Spencer did tamper with it. "Hey, Graceless, stumble over here and look at this."

Standing still, Grace frowned. "What is it, Spencer?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

"Spencer!"

"It's just that Negan drew a picture of his baseball bat over Olivia's precious list of weapons – that we no longer have. Did you get to see Negan? He has this bat wrapped in barbed wire, covered in blood, named Lucille. Rick carried it around for him yesterday like the little bitch he is. That bat was probably what killed his friends, and he toted it for Negan, the man who undoubtedly killed his friends. Does that sound like a good leader to you?"

"Don't pretend you wouldn't suck Negan's dick if he asked," Grace hissed.

"Please, you would suck his dick without him having to ask, I would bet," Spencer argued with her, and Grace was shoved backwards by him. "You'd be following Rick's example or orders. Whatever your precious Rick wants."

"You're just upset that I don't suck you dick no matter how much you asked before, and now Olivia won't do it for you either. Or Rosita now, I'm guessing, since you're sniffing around here." Grace clenched her fists by her sides, not wanting to swing out if she would only miss him.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere near me like that anyway, Graceless," Spencer laughed cruelly, "You're ugly now. I mean before you weren't that pretty anyway, but now it's official."

Gritting her teeth, Grace growled out, "Just deal with the fact that Rick is our leader – a good leader – and you aren't and never will lead Alexandria. Your mom will always be better than you."

That got to him. "You're hopeless, helpless, and useless, Graceless." The use of the cruel nickname, extremely fitting now because she's unintentionally clumsy since she's so new to being blind. "A blind burden."

"Get out, Spencer! I don't even know why you're still here!" It was getting to her, now, all of his insults. Grace had tried to thicken her skin to it, but she couldn't even do that.

"Oh, I'm just going to take what I want for dinner and then I'll be out of your hair," Spencer said so nonchalantly that it made Grace's blood boil.

"No, Spencer, you don't need it. Put. It. Back."

"Why don't you make me?" He childishly taunted her, and Grace heard the subtle rasp of a metal can on a metal shelf. She was never going to do this again, but she doubted Olivia would be able to stop him either if she were here. Olivia would probably be in tears by now. "That's what I thought," Spencer continued when Grace went silent, "Tell Olivia I'll be seeing her again soon, whenever you see her." Again, Spencer pushed passed her as he left.

Remaining silent, Grace let him leave, hating him but hating herself more for not being able to stop him. The garage door rattled noisily as Spencer closed it. Once the noise stopped, Grace buried her knuckles in her eye sockets over her bandages, not bothering to be careful, wishing desperately that she could cry actual tears. How could this day get any worse than it already was?

Knocking on Rick's front door with Carl at his side, Negan shifted Lucille from shoulder to shoulder. The kid had gunned down two men, and here Negan was, delivering him home safe and sound. Still, this warranted a talk with Rick. Briefly, Negan thought back to his days before the Apocalypse, when he was a gym teacher and he'd have parent-teacher conferences where he awkwardly had to explain to parents why their kid couldn't cut it on the basketball or baseball teams. It felt a little more domestic than that, like if Carl had just egged his house so Negan had to talk with his father so he could be properly punished.

The illusion was ruined though, when the girl in glasses from yesterday was behind the door. Ignoring her, Negan whistled and entered the house. He needed to speak with someone in charge. Distantly, he heard the woman behind him ask, "Carl, where's…"

She trailed off when Carl assured her, "Enid's fine."

Not knowing and not caring who Enid is, Negan took his time looking around Rick's house, which was admittedly very nice. "Great, great, great, great, great, great!" He swung around to face the woman, "Where's Rick?"

Immediately, she started stuttering, "Uh, I…I'm just…"

"Don't care," Negan sing-songed, not caring what her business was in Rick's house. He doubted she was his girlfriend or anything, he figured the woman with the sword was judging by yesterday's interactions. This woman could just be his housekeeper. Negan asked a little more seriously, "Where's Rick?"

"Um," the woman answered, "Out scavenging for you."

"Cool, I'll wait," Negan informed her jovially, and he fully intended to wait. The whole point of him coming all the way back to Alexandria so soon was so he could see Rick.

"Um," the woman began again, and Negan tried to remember her name. She was the one who ran the armory, but since he took their arms, he doubted she had a job anymore. "He went out pretty far," she hedged, "They might not be back today." A little more confidently, she continued, "We're running really low on everything." She was actually trying to guilt trip him. "We're practically starving here."

At that, his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Negan had to argue for logic's sake. He knew starving intimately. "Starving? You? By 'practically,' you mean 'not really.'"

Her face crumpled and she turned her back to him. Despite not being able to see her face, he could tell she was crying by her sniffles and the shake of her shoulders. Geez, now that really did guilt trip him. Negan didn't mean anything maliciously. It seems that it was just an Alexandria thing that no one could take a damn joke. Still, he had to laugh, and he turned to Carl and chuckled, "Really? You people seriously don't have a sense of humor."

Then Olivia started to actually sob. Now Negan had to say something. He ran a tired hand over his face, rolling his eyes dramatically as he wondered how to make this up to her. He couldn't even remember her damn name. Negan sighed, "Excuse me, what's your name again?"

In a wavering, watery voice, she answered him without turning around, "Olivia."

That sounded right and Negan wanted to kick himself for not remembering that. "Right. Olivia." Olivia turned back around to face him again, face a little wet and blotchy and red, but she wasn't an ugly crier – nothing like Amber in any case. God, he hated dealing with weepy women; he was just terrible at it.

"I am sorry for having been so rude to you just now," he sincerely apologized. That seemed to surprised her and her face softened. Seizing his opportunity, he stepped forward into her personal space, "And it looks like I'm gonna be here for a while, awaiting your fearless leader's return. And if you'd like… I think it would be agreeable – enjoyable I mean – to screw your brains out."

Olivia looked surprised, eyes going wide. Casually, he continued, shrugging his shoulders a bit, definitely not wanting to pressure her, "I mean, if, you know, you're agreeable to it."

Her eyebrows flattened, knitted together, and she drew back her hand and slapped him so hard Negan felt like his neck was going to snap. He shook the cobwebs out of his head, not mad, but his cheek did sting like a bitch. Leaning forward, he told her in a low and sincere voice, "I am about 50% more into you now. Just saying." He added that for clarification.

But Olivia only looked terrified, so Negan let it drop. If she wasn't interested, he wasn't going to pressure her. It would be her loss not to ride his fat dick anyway. Negan chuckled to her, "All right, well, I'm just gonna put my feet up and wait for my stuff to get here. Olivia?" He leaned back on his heels casually, wishing she had just said yes so he could have something fun to do until Rick came back. Besides, Negan would love to fuck her on Rick's bed and to have her screaming his name just when Rick would start rolling up to the door.

Remembering that he had met another cute girl yesterday – and again he couldn't remember her name, he had always been terrible with names – he curiously asked Olivia, "Where's the uh, you know, the blind girl? She okay? She hanging around here somewhere?"

Again, Olivia had that surprised and confused look on her face, still a little scared but not as skittish as before. "You mean Grace? She's in Alexandria, she's fine." She didn't offer to go get her, and Negan didn't want to seem desperate or anything, so he didn't ask.

Instead he asked, "Olivia? Would you be a lamb and make us," he meant all three of them, "a little lemonade?" Negan had saw it yesterday in the inventory, and he'd been thinking about constantly. He missed the simple comforts since all he had now was water and alcohol, practically. "Now, I know I left you all some of that good powdered stuff."

Olivia began making excuses, "Well, I'm supposed to be with…" She trailed off.

Negan swiftly interrupted her anyway, "Make it." He was being stern with her, "Make it. Take your time. Make it good." Not arguing with him, Olivia eagerly left, leaving Negan with Carl. Negan wasn't embarrassed about hitting on Olivia in front of Carl, hell, he wasn't embarrassed by anything he's shown Carl. Now it was Carl's turn to show him stuff. Twisting around, he said, "All right, kid! Take me on the grand tour!"

A little withdrawn, Carl made a terrible tour guide. Carl's grand tour consisted of the rest of the ground floor, which meant the kitchen. Negan couldn't help but turn on the sink, watching the water run – and the water could change temperatures, too. All these houses had everything: air conditioning, heating, running refrigerators, the works. Having gone without all of that – even at the Sanctuary – Negan was amazed by it.

Eventually, Carl led him upstairs, and they went in Rick's room. There, Negan kicked off his boots and dug his toes in the carpet. He missed that feeling, so simple, but all the Sanctuary had were concrete flooring and tiles – and sometimes a rug or two, but they were cheap. Carl looked at him weird, but Negan only smiled.

Onward the tour went, and they made it to Carl's room. Negan played with the dartboard – and the first dart he threw he made a bull's eye. Nice to know he still had it from his days at Simon's bar. Bull's eyes always impressed the ladies. They left Carl's room, and Carl bypassed a door. "How about this one?" Negan pointed at it.

Carl tried to brush it off casually, "Oh, it's just where water heater is. You don't want to go in there."

Not born yesterday, Negan recognized that that door was too big for that and the way the house was laid out, that had to be another bedroom. "Are you serious, kid? Come on." Without waiting for Carl, Negan opened the door.

It was a nursey, with a crib and a baby sitting inside of it so docilely. She was a little big, almost toddler aged now, and she was beautiful. "Oh-ho my," Negan said in surprise. He held out Lucille, and Carl took her for him. It had been so long since he's seen a baby – he always wanted a baby but… it just wasn't in the cards. Kids loved him, kids of all ages – Carl was the only one who didn't.

"Look at this little angel," he cooed as he picked her up from her crib. She must've been up here taking a nap; that's probably why Olivia was here. They actually tried to hide a baby from him. What, did they think he would actually hurt a baby? He was crushed, but he could see why they would hide her away…why Rick would hide her away. This was Rick's baby. Wow. Negan lightly bounced her, and she just stared at him, still a little tired from her nap. Well, now that he knew she was here, there was no reason to hide her now. She deserved to be taken out of her crib for a little fresh air.

Inspired, Negan took her downstairs, Carl trailing behind with Lucille, looking nervous. They went out on the porch together, and Negan gestured for Carl to sit on one of the rocking chairs. He put Lucille down, resting her against the table between the rocking chairs, and did so. "Here, hold her for me for a second." Negan passed the girl to Carl, and once his hands were free, he shrugged off his black leather jacket. It was too hot to wear that now. Hanging it over the back of his rocking chair, Negan asked, "So what's angel-face's name, Carl?"

For a moment, Carl pressed his lips together, but then he answered Negan softly, "Judith."

"Judith, huh? That's kind of an old-fashioned name. Like for a granny. But, you know, your name is Carl and your daddy's name is Rick. You all have weird names." Negan picked Judith up from Carl's arm, catching his stink-eye, "Yeah, I know my name is weird. Don't fucking say shit about it, though."

Gently, he sat back in his own rocking chair with Judith, and she leaned against his chest. She must still want another nap. "Judith, can I call her Judy? Is she named after anyone? Like your mom or something?"

"No," Carl said quickly, obviously touchy about it.

Knowing that this was not a good topic to linger on, Negan let it drop. It was probably better if they didn't talk anyway so Judith could try and rest. Rocking his chair steadily and smoothly, Negan enjoyed the view he had of suburbia on Rick's front porch. It was missing a few things, yeah, like a pretty woman and some food and some lemonade and Rick, too, but it was so peaceful. It was pretty amazing that this could be so preserved considering what was just beyond those walls out there.

On his lap, Judith snored softly, and Negan couldn't help but comment, "Oh, this little girl is precious." Negan would give his left nut to have a baby, but none of his current wives would dare do it. Pregnancy and childbirth could be risky, but he knew the Hilltop had that kind of doctor. What was the point of rebuilding the world if there was nothing to rebuild it for?

Pausing in his humming, Negan saw one of the Alexandrians walk by, cutting between houses. It didn't concern Negan at all, he had his men all over the place so no one would dare try anything, and if they did they wouldn't get very far – alive in any case. Loyal Arat was just there, too. Once the Alexandrian saw Negan, he quickened his pace, disturbed by the imagery of him of Rick's porch. Unbothered and well amused, Negan joked, "Hey, neighbor. Why don't you come by later? We might grill out." The man trotted away, and Negan laughed. "Oh, I like it here," he admitted to Carl, "I might just have to stay here."

Carefully, Negan lifted Judith off of his chest, her hair catching in his annoying beard. God, he really needed to shave. Negan just wanted to look at Judith's face. He wanted to imagine if she were his daughter. The more time he spent around her, the more she wrapped him around her finger, and the more he wanted a baby. Negan doubted that he would get one, though. To distract himself from these thoughts, Negan attempted to joke again.

"You know I was thinking about what you said earlier, Carl. Maybe it is stupid keeping you and your dad alive. I mean, why am I trying so hard?" And he was trying hard. Any other lesser man would've outright killed Carl for the stunt he pulled, and when Negan did the line-up, he could've slaughtered them all but he saw the potential in them to be survivors. He could understand why they would kill his men, so he let them off much easier than he had to. Two of their men – really only was supposed to be one if it weren't for Daryl – for an entire outpost of his men they murdered in their sleep. Not that fair, but Negan made it work and convinced his men otherwise. Rick didn't seem to pick up on how nice he was having it, though, and Carl was definitely ungrateful. "Maybe I should just bury you both down in one of those flower beds. Huh?"

Chuckling again, Negan said in baby-talk, "And then I could just settle into the suburbs." This time he addressed Judith, "What do you think about that?" He bounced her on his lap, making faces even more exaggerated than normal, and he kissed her forehead. Gosh, Judith was sweet, though she didn't giggle. Rick probably trained her to be quiet out there, and Negan could understand why.

Surprisingly, though, Carl spoke up, and he didn't sound threatening either. "Judith probably needs to be changed. I can do that for you, if you want." He stood up and expectantly held his hands out for Judith.

Without protesting, Negan obliged him. "Of course, you will, Carl. She may be cute, but she's not that cute. I don't do gardening and I for damn fucking sure don't do diapers. But be sure to bring her back out when you're done."

Carl didn't give him the stink-eye, he just went back inside. Negan sat in silence, enjoying the cool breeze. He wondered where Olivia was with the lemonade. He wondered where Rick was and when he was coming back. Then his thoughts strayed again to more serious topics.

Domesticity for one thing. He wasn't necessarily a one-woman man, or the typical family man, but being around Judith for just a bit inspired him. The Sanctuary could be safe enough for a baby. Maybe he should start encouraging family lifestyles. Having children around encourages people to not be so reckless, to not strike out on their own, to contribute to the community. Negan knew now why Rick did what he did; if Negan had a baby, he'd kill a shit ton of more people than he already does.

Sighing a little wistfully, Negan looked out over Alexandria, wondering if he could get away with mowing the lawn again. He had always hated that chore, but now he missed it since he no longer had a true lawn. Just then, though, he spied a familiar woman walking down the street in short steps. Her gait gave her away instantly if the bandages over her eyes didn't; it was the blind woman, Grace.

Out in front of the porch where Arat was lolling around in the yard, she climbed to her feet at Grace's approach. Negan only whistled, and Arat looked back at him and moved out of Grace's way. She could see the woman was blind, so she wasn't that much of a threat. Negan and Arat watched Grace curiously, dimly aware that she was moving around without a guide of any kind – not even a stick.

Then Negan saw that she was actually coming towards Rick's house. She turned to go up the front steps, and she grasped the handrail to haul herself up. Negan didn't stop rocking on the porch, smiling at her, though she couldn't see it. He had just opened his mouth to speak, when Grace spoke first, "You're in the rocking chair? Aw, that's nice."

Wobbling slightly, Grace toddled over to Negan's side, unknowing that it was Negan. Grace figured it was either Olivia or Rick, and she only knew they were in the rocking chair because she could hear it creak steadily. Hesitantly, she reached out and she found a bare and hairy arm, obviously a man's so probably Rick's. Smiling, she glad that Rick had returned to enjoy quality time with his family and sit out on the porch. She outright refused to think about how if he was back so early, he probably didn't find anything. Gently, she trailed her hand up the arm to the shoulder and squeezed. It felt like a simple cotton shirt. So, Rick was really relaxing today, huh? He deserved a break. "I was just at the armory on guard duty, guarding nothing. Olivia wanted a turn with Judith, so we figured it was no big deal."

Uncharacteristically stunned into silence, Negan sat there quietly while Grace rubbed her small, soft hand up his arm and gripped his shoulder tightly. It almost made him groan. Frankie had been in a funk with him lately for adding Sherry to the group, so she outright refused massages. Negan has been suffering without them. Now, though, under Grace's familiar touch, Negan wondered if he had been wrong and Grace was Rick's woman instead. If she thought he was Rick, she was close to the man.

Reaching up his other hand, he grasped hers intending to remove her hand from his person and burst her bubble. At his touch, though, she flipped her hand around and held his hand, and grabbed his wrapped wrist with her free hand. "Oh, is this why you're back so early?" Grace asked him, gently running her fingers over the bandage. "You got injured out there? I hope it was nothing too serious."

Her touch was so sweet, so friendly, that Negan unintentionally melted underneath it. Having as many wives as he did, Negan was used to all sorts of sexual touching, but rarely were his wives so affectionate in this sort of platonic way. The relationship he had with his wives was mostly businesslike, so something as simple as this was foreign to Negan now. It reminded him of his old life – just like everything else in Alexandria had so far, from the suburbia to Judith. Overcome with nostalgia, Negan wasn't sure what to say, afraid to break this spell.

"Where is Judith?" Grace asked, seemingly reading his thoughts, "She inside napping? I guess, Carl and Michonne are watching her." For some reason, Grace put her hand back on his shoulder and traced her way up to his face. There she cupped his cheek tenderly, fingers rubbing over his beard, and damn he wished he had shaved because he'd love to feel her hand on his cheek in full.

Now Negan knew why it was so hard for Dwight to say no to her. She had such an innocence about her – a rarity nowadays – and looking up at her face, he could see it on her. Remembering what he told Dwight last night, Negan knew that since Dwight went on this trip with him to Alexandria sans Daryl that he'd be wandering around here somewhere. Well, if Dwight wasn't going to get to Grace first, then Negan definitely would. Olivia already said no anyway.

With that in mind, Negan examined Grace more closely. She couldn't get mad at him for ogling her if she couldn't tell that he was staring. The bandage over her eyes was held firmly in place, but Negan could see the scarring again peeping out on her cheeks and on her forehead. Just like with Carl's missing eye, Negan wanted to see her scars, too. He bet they would be just as disgusting but probably twice as badass. The rest of her face was pretty, with a captivating smile. She had a similar body type to Olivia, but he liked that. It's like he told Dwight once, nice tits and ass usually meant something extra, and Negan could handle it.

Suddenly, Grace broke his train of thought. "Oh, is Olivia still here? I need to send her to the armory unless you need her. Spencer's been causing trouble again and he actually stole some food, but I can't tell you what. Olivia would have to go through the list to tell." Nervously, Grace bit her lip, and Negan followed the movement freely with his eyes. "Sorry about that, Rick. But you know, I don't think Olivia could stop Spencer either."

Jolted out of his silence by being reminded of the identity confusion, Negan finally said something. "Oh, I think our dear Olivia could surprise you. She certainly fucking surprised me today."

As soon as she heard his voice, Grace froze in place, a stricken look crossing over her face. Deliberating with herself for a moment, she finally removed her hands from him. "I'm sorry, it's just that this is Rick's home, and, well, nobody wants to tell a blind girl if the Saviors are here or if she's talking to the right person."

"No fucking harm, no fucking foul, Graceful." Negan climbed to his feet, leaving both Lucille and his jacket where they were because he intended to come back. "Let's head inside." He took Grace's hand and led her in, and she followed placidly.

"Why Graceful?" She asked him, more than a little confused. Considering how jerky her movements were now that she was blind, she considered herself anything but graceful. Besides, even before she lost her eyes, Grace was hardly a ballerina either.

"I dunno, it's a combination between Grace and beautiful. And you are fucking beautiful," Negan rambled, throwing it all out into the wind without caution that it seemed so thoughtlessly off the cuff, as if he didn't mean it. But for that, it also seemed more genuine to Grace. "You're just full of something, too, Grace, but I've yet to find out what shit you got inside you. Maybe we'll fucking get somewhere today."

Suddenly, he stopped walking, but he still tugged Grace closer. Instinctively, she tilted her chin up, expecting him to be close. "Say, Grace, how about a quick fuck?"

"Excuse me?" To put it plainly, she was surprised he'd ask her for that.

"Well, it's just, I'm sitting around here waiting for Rick and it seemed like a roll in the fucking hay would be fun. I think one of these rooms still has a mattress, so it'll be comfortable, too. What do you say?"

"Uh, um, well, er," Grace sputtered, at a loss. She'd never been propositioned before like that. Has anyone been asked to bed like that before? "I don't think that'd be okay."

"Shit, you have a boyfriend or something? That'll break Dwight's heart. Well, I'm married. They don't have to know, though."

A little indignant at that, Grace pulled her hand away, frowning. "No, it's not that, though I think that's not fair to your wife. But, I was thinking about Judith. This is Rick's home, too, I don't live here. It just wouldn't be right for me to do that." Tilting her chin back down, Grace was thinking hard, unsure of how she got into this mess. "You said something about Dwight? Did he mention me again?"

Raising his eyebrows, Negan smiled. Dwighty-boy made quite the impression it seemed. Good for him even though so far Negan it liked he's struck out twice now. "He might've said something. Dwight's somewhere in Alexandria, but now that you're here, you're staying with me." He liked having her around. "Come on, let's fucking go upstairs for something." Gently, he took her by the hands, placed one hand on the railing and gripped the other in his own. Then he led her upstairs, tongue pinched between his smile in excitement.

Grateful for the guidance, Grace followed docilely enough. At least he had the courtesy to help her find the handrail, too, before he dragged her behind him. He even went slow so she wouldn't stumble and trip. By now Grace knew she really needed some sort of cane. Morgan had offered to make her one like the stick he had, but he never got around to it before he left. Too much on his mind. Grace understood, and hoped that wherever he was now he was okay, and that he had found Carol. On the second floor now, Grace continued to hold Negan's hand, curious. "What are we doing up here, Negan?"

"I'm looking for Carl. He had to change Judith," Negan explained, and walked to the nursery with Grace in tow. Placing his hand on the door caused it to swing open on its hinges without even a creak; and there inside was Carl, just finishing up smoothing Judith's clothes.

Carl picked Judith up, taking his time with her, before he finally bothered to look at Negan. When he saw Grace hovering by his side, he visibly started and then recovered. "Hey, Grace. What are you doing here?"

She turned her head towards the sound of Carl's voice. "Hey, Carl. I was coming to trade jobs with Olivia for the afternoon."

Shifting impatiently from foot to foot, Negan cut in, hating the fact that he was being ignored. "Grace here is going to keep us company, too. We'll be one big happy fucking family. You and me, Grace makes three, and Olivia and Judith. All of us waiting on your daddy."

"I don't know when he'll be back." Carl's voice was a careful balance between coldness and politeness. Negan felt like he was doing it less for his sake and more for his sister's and Grace's. "He wasn't home last night, I doubt he'll be home tonight. He won't come back until he finds what he need."

"Well shit, I'll wait as long as it fucking takes. Half of that shit he finds belongs to me anyway." Negan felt Grace squeezed his hand, and he glanced at her. Her face betrayed nothing, so he didn't draw attention to it, choosing instead to turn back to Carl. "Until then, you've got spare houses for my men don't ya?"

"We can spare three," Grace answered for Carl.

"Sh-yeet," Negan drew out in disbelief, "Looks to me like you've got more vacant lots than that."

"They're not vacant," Grace argued back, not exactly belligerent.

Negan decided to let it slide, but at a price, "Fine. Three houses for my men, but me and Arat get to shack up with you, Grace. You fucking cool with that?"

"Deal." The woman didn't even flinch or hesitate, and Negan has to admire that. "Now can you stop swearing in front of Judith?"

Reminded of the presence of a baby, Negan snuck a guilty glance at the toddler who clutched her brother, staring at Negan and Grace. "Shit," Negan cursed without meaning to, but continued anyway, "She's too fucking young to pick up on it. Hell, the world has gone to shit with the dead rising and my fucking language is offensive to her innocent ears? Bullshit. I'm sure she's seen a lot of shit."

Grace's mouth pinched, obviously displeased, but she knew better than to push her luck. Carl, though, spared her from having to say anything as he once again joined the conversation. "It's fine, Grace. Judith will be fine."

"Your dad will kill me if 'fuck' is her first word, Carl," Grace sighed, but then conceded, "Whatever. Daryl called her 'Lil Asskicker' anyway, right?"

Negan chuckled, "That fucking redneck," but didn't add anything more to that. He preferred if they didn't talk about Daryl. "Say, Carl, I fucking doubt it given your dad's man-bush, but has he got any shaving equipment around here?"

There's a pause as Carl thought about the shaving kit Michonne brought Rick as a gift. Briefly he wondered if he should lie, but if shaving makes Negan happy and keeps him busy, he doubted his dad would mind. Besides, it's not like Rick had much use for the shaving kit now anyway. Half of their shit belonged to Negan, shaving kit included, Carl grimly supposed. "Yeah, he does."

Negan's smile was wide, and in a situation where he hadn't caved in Abraham's and Glenn's skulls in with his baseball bat, it would have been infectious. As it was, his smile was handsome, blinding with his perfect, bleached white teeth. His dimples were hidden underneath his salt-and-pepper stubble, but not for long. "Great! Fucking take me to it!"

Even though he knows Grace can't see his face, Carl glanced at her meaningfully, wishing he could exchange a nonverbal look at her that could translate as 'Can you believe this asshole?' Since he couldn't do that, Carl just sighed, and carefully squeezed between Negan and the doorframe, leading the way to his father's bathroom with Judith still in his arms. The day was far from over and already it had gone on too long. Carl wasn't sure how much longer he could stand Negan before he snapped again and something happened, but Carl had the sneaking suspicion in his gut that something was indeed going to happen soon. He could only hope that whatever it was, was going to go well for Alexandria.


End file.
